


Red Lion

by GuiltilyPleasured



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: AU?, F/F, Gen, Minor AgentReign?, SuperCorp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-24 12:10:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltilyPleasured/pseuds/GuiltilyPleasured
Summary: It's a well kept secret-the most exclusive club in National City. Who knows what'll happen on a given evening at the Red Lion Cabaret? Certainly not Lena Luthor.





	1. The Red Lion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DKGwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKGwrites/gifts).



> This is dedicated to the lovely DKGwrites, for her encouragement, which convinced me to give this whole writing thing another shot. Sorry it took so long to find an idea that sparked my imagination.
> 
> Unless you want to be spoiled, do not watch the following link until you've figured out what it is without looking. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGif9VMEFaA

Lena Luthor stepped out of her limousine on the corner and closed the center button on her suit jacket. On the other side of the car, Samantha Arias straightened her trousers and looked around warily. Just outside downtown National City, the commercial neighborhood was mostly quiet shortly after dark, with only a few people hurrying down the street.

  
“Lena, are you sure about this? I’m not sure any club in an area like this is one we should be patronizing. I’d like to be able to pick up Ruby in the morning with both of my kidneys still inside.”

 

The dark haired woman smiled at her CFO, street light glistening off her crimson lipstick. “Relax, Sam. You’ll still have all your organs in the morning.”

  
  
She turned and walked towards an alleyway, in which an oak door sat unobtrusively at the bottom of a short staircase. The door was worn but well cared for, with no signs or markings, except for an old fashioned knocker framed between two wrought iron lions that had been painted red. Over her shoulder, she added; “Your liver might not be in the best condition though.”

  
Sam groaned, heels clacking on the sidewalk as she caught up to her boss. “Why do you do this to me, Lena? Dive bars really are not my style, haven’t been since college. Hell, even then I was too busy taking care of my daughter.”

  
Lena walked down the stairs and rested her hand on the door, turning back to the other woman. “I’ll tell you what, Sam,” she said, her accent thickening for a moment. “I will bet you one thousand dollars. Not only will you love this place, you will want to come back. Fifteen minutes. If I’m wrong, I’ll pay up in cash, and call Henry to take you home.”

  
The Luthor heiress held out her hand, cocking an eyebrow at her friend. Sam narrowed her eyes for a moment, then shook the hand warily.

 

“If it’ll get me out of here and into my pajamas that much faster, deal. I hate to take your money though, Lena...when it’s not in my paycheck.”

  
With a calm smirk, Lena raised the knocker and cracked it against the door three times in quick succession. Hardly a moment passed before the door opened, revealing a large gentleman in crisp black trousers and vest over a dark red silk shirt. He eyed the two of them for a moment, then stepped back, beckoning them in.

  
Already, Sam looked suspicious. This was not at all what she had expected. Her confusion drained away with a gasp as the women stepped out of the entrance way an into a large room.

 

Soft red carpet covered the floor. Most of the room was sunken down another half-staircase, while booths ringed the walls on the higher level. On one wall, a staircase led up to a second floor, open and overlooking the first. The wall to their left was dominated by a stage, currently empty but holding several instrument stands, a drumset, and a grand piano. To their right, a long bar of dark polished wood was attended by a man in a uniform similar to that of the doorman. Dark, polished wood, brass, and gleaming red leather shone around the room. Dozens of men and women circulated or sat at tables, all of them dressed in finery.

 

Lena shot Sam a look out of the corner of her eye. The brunette gaped for a moment, before pulling her wallet out of her purse and counting out a handful of bills, handing them to Lena without a word.

 

Lena plucked them with a smirk, sauntering past Sam to the bar and sliding them over to the bartender. “Open a tab for my friend and I, please.”

  
The man took the bills, counting them into the register. “Of course, Ms. Luthor. Shall I start with your usual?”

  
“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

 

Sam followed Lena to the bar and pulled her down to the end, hissing at her while looking around.

  
“What the hell, Lena? What is this place? I see two CEO’s that aren’t you, the district attorney, and a mayoral candidate!”

  
Lena continued to smirk, taking the glasses the bartender handed her and offering one to Sam. Each held two fingers of an amber liquid.

  
“This, Samantha, is the Red Lion Cabaret. It’s been here since the thirties. Unofficially, it was here before too-that’s why it’s so well hidden. It caters to the wealthy and influential looking for somewhere away from the hussle and attention of more ‘hip’ destinations.”

 

Sam looked around again, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve heard of it, but I always thought it was a myth. Damn.”

 

“We’re lucky. We got in before tonight’s performance started,” Lena added, nodding towards the stage. The ladies sat down in well padded seats at the bar, leaning back against it and observing. As their glasses ran down (they proved to be full of a rather marvelous imported scotch) the bartender refilled them without being asked.

 

“Oh? Who’s playing?” Sam asked, swirling the whiskey in her glass.

 

“I haven’t the foggiest, honestly.”

 

The brunette glared at her friend suspiciously.

 

“No, really, Sam. They never reveal who’s playing ahead of time. They don’t want the Lion to become a concert venue, or for people to show up just for the performances. Players can ask for tips, but they never charge a cover, and anyone who plays gets paid the same by the establishment. Some nights it might be a small local band that nobody’s ever heard of. Other nights you might get a private show from a chart-topping singer. Either way, they get the same takeaway, give or take what they might get in gratuities.”

 

As she finished speaking, a group of people walked out onto the stage, speaking quietly among themselves. A large, bald, muscular black man settled behind the drum set in the back, while a young caucasian man with messy brown hair fiddled with a flute. On the opposite side of the piano from the young man, a woman with chin length auburn hair cradled a fiddle. Lena’s eyes were locked on the last member of the band, however. A tall woman with blonde hair and blue eyes sat down at the piano, giving the entire room an infectious smile. The pianist glanced at her bandmates, and started to play.

 

Lena sighed and leaned back against the bar, closing her eyes for a moment as the music washed across the room. The piano wove notes together alone for a moment, then the drums joined, quietly keeping rhythm and giving the pianist something to play off of. The flute slipped into the quiet moments, a piping counter-harmony to the piano, and the fiddle trilled over it all.

 

For almost an hour, the band played without speaking. They took short breaks, and played a variety of pieces. Sam and Lena spoke quietly at the bar, watching all the while, and the Luthor could hardly tear her eyes off the blonde at the piano, which Sam couldn’t help but notice, causing her to smirk into her glass. The only time the dark haired woman looked away was when the blonde looked at their end of the bar - something she didn’t realize was happening quite often. Near the end of their set, the blonde gestured the fiddler over, and they spoke quietly. The dark-eyed woman seemed exasperated, but after a moment, she seemed to reluctantly agree to whatever the pianist was suggesting.

 

Lena and Sam chatted about work while the musicians tuned their instruments, and when the first note drifted out of the piano, they looked back at the stage. Lena froze.

 

Those blue eyes were locked with hers, and a small, secretive smile danced across the woman’s lips. Her fingers danced across the keys, teasing out a more forceful, confident rhythm than they had previously played, with the help of the other instruments. After a few moments, her smile widened and she flipped a switch on the microphone resting on the piano.

  
_“Who knows not, the tragedy-  
_ _of Tristan and Isolt?”_

Lena gasped, clutching a bewildered Sam’s wrist without looking away from the stage.

 

 _“The fair-haired Cornish harper-  
_ _whose hands held steel and string?”_

 

The pianist winked. Sam looked between her friend and the musician, raising an eyebrow as the woman continued the verse.

 

 _“And Ireland’s greatest treasure-_  
_borne like Helen ‘cross the water._  
_While the waves approachi-ing-  
_ _bowed before her beauty?”_

 

The singer took a quick breath, leaning towards the microphone atop the piano while her fingers danced on the keys, though her head remained turned towards the watching crowd, and Lena at the bar in the back.

 

 _“All who’ve heard the telling know-_  
_the blind and bitter fates-_  
_placed the cup of loves sweet poison-  
_ _to unconsenting lips.”_

 

Lena leaned forward herself, releasing Sam’s wrist to rest her arms on her knees, enthralled.

 

 _“And as plank fell home to timber-_  
_and the king beheld his lady-_  
_carols rang within the church-  
_ _and seagulls screamed.”_

 

Sam, bemused, looked back and forth between the two, then the fiddler caught her eye. The player looked at the pianist, then at Lena, then back to Sam, rolling her eyes and shrugging subtly.

 

 _“All the harpers laboured-_  
_on their agonies of passion._  
_Unfulfilled and ever straining-  
_ _like loadstones to the north.”_

 

The blondes smile grew sultry and her voice husky as she launched into the next verse, and Lena found herself blushing.

 

 _“But few will ever mention-_  
_how the cold breath of the Northlands,-_  
_let them lie at last as one-  
_ _without deceit.”_

 

The fiddler stepped forward, chords flowing from her instrument as the pianist took up the harmony and finally looked away from Lena for a moment, allowing Sam to catch her attention.

 

“Breathe, Luthor. S-”

 

“Shhh, Sam. Have you never heard this story? It’s one of the greatest romantic tragedies of all time! I’ve never heard it in song before, just listen!”

 

The brunette rolled her eyes and sat back, sipping her drink. Sure, it was definitely the song and story that had Lena’s attention.

 

For a few more moments, the fiddle rose above the rest, before the woman stepped back, her notes gentling and allowing the blonde’s voice to rise again.

 

She sang of Tristan, torn by grief and shame, fleeing to Bretagne. She sang of his battles and the fame he won, of the demons which tore at his heart, of the music he stopped playing out of grief. She sang of his struggles, of his furious warring and strife, and of Isolt’s voice heard in his mind, even on the bloodiest battlefields. She sang of his wife, Blanchmaine, whose hand he was given for his heroics, who he’d married out of duty, but could not love for his memory of Isolt.

 

Again the fiddler stepped up, her instrument singing across the wood-panelled chamber. She played for half a minute, playing the melody back and forth with the flutist, before stepping back so the singer could pick up the tale again.

 

Now she sang of the terrible turmoil that beset Britannia, and of Tristan’s terrible, poisoned wound, a wound that could be healed only by the greatest physician in the land; Isolt of Ireland.

 

She sang of the signal Tristan sent to Isolt, of his request. He asked she come to him in a ship flying white sails, or to send the ship with sails of black if she no longer loved him and would not come.

 

She sang of Tristan’s fever-ridden mind, of his hallucinations, of the secret love he spoke in a dream, overheard by the wife he’d never given anything, who sat beside his bed, caring for him.

 

With that revelation, the lyrics broke, and the flutist stepped forward, fingers stepping carefully over the silver shaft of his instrument, trilling an ever more intricate harmony to the listeners. Lena closed her eyes for a moment, then glanced at Sam, who did not understand her melancholy smile. Lena said nothing, allowing the musicians to explain, her eyes returning to the pianist, whose voice called out again, soaring to the rafters, triumphant and strong. It was a clarion that commanded the attention of all present.

 

_“Morning framed the answer,-_  
_walking lightly o’er the water._  
_Like Christ’s own vict’ry banner-_  
_it flew toward the shore._  
_It was white as angels raiments,-”_

 

The rhythm and volume of the players plummeted, and her voice dropped, a murmur that was heard clearly in the suddenly quiet cabaret.

 

_“But when feebly he begged her,_  
_Fairest Blanchemaine softly told him:_  
**_‘’Tis of night.’_** _”_

  
The players picked up again, but did not regain their previous tempo or volume, as the blonde’s voice sang with a wistful tone.

 

_“Who can say which venom-_  
_took the soul from Tristan’s body?_  
_And the bells began their tolling-_  
_as Isolt ran up the strand.”_

 

Lena looked at Sam again, and saw the brunette’s hand over her mouth. A tear sparked in her friends eye, and the sight drew one to the heiress’ as well.

 

_“The wind grew slow and silent-_  
_as she wept upon her lover,-_  
_and in gentleness-_  
_it took her grief away.”_

 

She looked back to the musicians, and saw the blonde bent over the piano, mouth close to the microphone, eyes closed as she drew the story towards its close.

 

_“Side by side they laid them-_  
_with the earth their separation._  
_Even yet, they were divided-_  
_by the morals of the world.”_

 

Her voice began to rise again, quickly returning to its previous, triumphant clarion call. The stridency and power nearly pulled the entire establishment to their collected feet.

 

_“But their spirits spiralled upwards,-_  
_Ireland’s Briar and Cornwall’s Rose,-_  
_and together at the last,-_  
_they la-ay ennntwiiiined!”_

 

The fiddlers voice joined the pianists on the final line, harmonizing and raising the song while the flutist raised the tone of his instrument with them. Together, the band played a crescendo to the tale, somehow ending the tragic tale on an instrumental medley that was undeniably joyous.

 

As the last note of the flute faded away, Lena rose to her feet and started applauding. She was not the only one, as on both levels people joined in and cheered. On the stage, the blonde stood up with a blush. She walked to the front of the stage, where she linked arms with the fiddler and flutist, who was joined by the drummer. As one, they bowed, before separating their arms, waving, and walking off the stage.

 

“Alright, Lena,” Sam said, turning back to the bar. “I’ll give you this-you weren’t wrong about that story, though I’m still not convinced that was the reason you were so focused on it.” She slid a cup of water over to her friend, which the bartender had dropped off partway through the song. “Drink up, you’re so thirsty **my** mouth has gone dry.”

 

“Ha, ha. Funny, pot, but I saw how you were looking at the fiddler.” Lena said, smiling with one side of her mouth and raising an eyebrow before pointedly taking a sip from the glass of water.”

  
“Wh-I-we were commiserating about how ridiculous our friends are, okay? She could see how transparent her friend was being just as well as I can see it in you.”

 

“Who’s being transparent about what?” The friends jumped at the voice behind them, spinning around to see the musicians walking up, having just come out of a side door near the bar. The men kept walking, chatting and settling down at the bar not too far away while the women stopped. The blonde grinned impishly and held out her hand to Lena.

  
“Hi, I’m Kara!”

 

“It means ‘extra bitch’ in her mother tongue,” cut in the dark eyed woman. “I’m the older, saner sister, Alex,” she continued, holding her own hand out to Samantha.

 

“Alex!” The blonde protested, then blinked as Lena took her hand and shook it with a smile.

 

“Lena,” the Luthor said, allowing the fullness of her accent free reign. “I might be a bit biased, but that’s one of my favorite stories. How did you know?”

 

Alex finished shaking Sam’s hand as she threw her head back in a laugh at the look on her sisters face.

 

“Oh god. I just sang a legend about a beautiful woman from Ireland to a beautiful Irish woman. Someone kill me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously inspired by one of my favorite songs, 'Tristan and Isolt' by Heather Dale. I was listening a few days ago, and when I heard "Ireland's greatest treasure, borne like Helen 'cross the water" I pictured Katie McGrath. The rest, as they say, is history.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I crave comments and critique like a person lost in the desert craves water. Ideas for a continuation, thoughts, concerns? Let me hear it!
> 
> Edit: Thanks to all the encouragement, I've decided to continue this. It has been changed to a multi-part story. Thank you so much for your kind words!


	2. Meet Cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than the last one, but I hope you like it!

Kara Danvers wanted to sink into the ground. Her master plan had backfired. The woman with the pale skin and beautiful green eyes was Irish. Of course she was Irish. Her appearance is what had brought Isolt to Kara’s mind, why hadn’t she considered that the woman might actually be Irish herself? 

 

“Weeell…” the woman said, dragging the word out. Kara jerked out of her mortified pity spiral to look at her. Off to the right, she could hear her sister not even bothering to hide her laughter.

 

“If I’m being honest,” Lena continued, her voice starting to shift. “While I  _ am _ technically Irish, I’ve lived in the States since I was a little girl, barring some time spent back on Eire for boarding school.” By the end of the sentence, her accent was almost completely gone. Kara blinked.

 

“Wow, that’s a really cool trick. I wish I could just turn on an accent like that,” she said. “Do you mind if I sit?” She added, gesturing to the one bar stool between Lena’s and the end of the counter. To her right, Alex mimicked her gesture to the stool on the other side of Sam.

 

“By all means,” Lena said, gesturing to the seat and flagging down the bartender. “What kind of drink am I buying you?”

 

Kara laughed as she sat. “Wow, confident much? Aren’t you going to ask if I’ll let you, first?”

 

Lena raised a single eyebrow, before wryly asking, “Would you have said no?”

 

“Well…” Kara rubbed the back of her neck. “No. No I would not have.” She looked up as the bartender approached, setting down a glass of orange juice. “I guess she’s buying my juice tonight,” she said, and the man looked at Lena, then went on his way when she nodded.

 

“Not an alcohol drinker?” Lena inquired, finishing her fourth glass of scotch in the last hour.

 

“No, I don’t like the effect it has on me,” Kara replied.  _ ‘That being none,’ _ she thought to herself.

 

“I can’t say I blame you. I’ve met my fair share of unpleasant drunks. It’s nice to meet someone who chooses not to let it happen.”

 

Kara blushed and looked down, then glanced past Lena at Sam and Alex, who were laughing at some remark Kara hadn’t noticed. Alex was already nursing what looked like a glass of the same scotch Lena and Sam had been drinking. Satisfied her sister was having a good time, and seemed to be connecting with someone, she looked at Lena again. “So, I always wonder what kinds of people come here. I’ve never actually met a patron before.” She leaned her elbows on the bar and her head on her clasped hands and looked Lena over. “Are you a model? An actress? Oooh, in that power suit, are you a spy? You aren’t here to kill me, are you, Mata Hari?”

 

Lena bit her lip, eyeing the blonde. Kara didn’t know, but she was wondering how much she could say before scaring the woman away. Cowardice won out, and she decided to avoid details for the moment.

 

“If I was, I don’t think I could follow through on it. It would be absolutely criminal to rob the world of your beautiful…” She slowly raked her eyes down the sparkling, sequined red gown the pianist was wearing, before flicking back up to her eyes, quirking an eyebrow as she finished. “...voice.”

 

Kara could feel herself turning crimson as she started to bluster and protest. ‘ _ Really’ _ , she thought,  _ I did not think this whole seductive singer thing through, did I? I am not cut out for this! _ Then, she realized…

 

“Wait, you didn’t actually answer my question!”

 

“You noticed,” Lena said ruefully, then snapped her fingers. “I guess I’ll just have to kill you after all.”

 

Kara pouted and leaned forwards onto the bar.

 

“Puppy dog eyes, really?” Lena rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Fine, I won’t kill you, but only because you asked so nicely. So, how long are you in town for?”

 

The blonde scrunched up her nose, confused. “Um. I hadn’t planned on leaving anytime in the foreseeable future. I live here. Why would I want to leave? I love National City.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed your group was touring, with a performance like that. What’s keeping you, can’t find a label?”

 

Kara blinked, blushing again. “Uh-wow, you actually thought we were that good? Hunh, thanks! No, honestly we haven’t even looked. Music is...kind of a hobby, I guess? I’ve loved it since I was a kid and Alex taught me how to play. Winn-” she pointed at the brown haired flutist who was awkwardly laughing at a joke the other man had just told. “-was a total band nerd in school. We met a few years ago and started playing and singing together for fun. Then, when James moved here-” she indicated the last member of the band. “-we found out he learned to play drums to impress a girl back in Metropolis. That’s when we realized we actually had the makings of a band, instead of some people who just like to play together.”

She shrugged. “That’s really all there is to it. We’ve been playing together for about a year now. It’s certainly not any of our day jobs.”

 

“Well,” Lena said, leaning forwards, “you could have fooled me. If making music and telling haunting recreations of ancient myths is only a hobby, what are your day jobs?”

 

“Oh, we’re a kind of weird group. I’m a freelance journalist, James is a Pulitzer winning photojournalist, and Winn is one of the best IT guys you’ll ever meet. Alex, of course, is the group badass.” Kara paused and smirked at Lena. “What about you?”

 

Lena cursed under her breath, realizing she’d been pinned, and that the blonde knew it. She smiled good naturedly. “Sam’s a c-suite executive at an international technology firm. I’m an engineer. You’ve sparked my curiosity further, though. What exactly does a ‘group badass’ do for money?”

 

Rather than asking, Kara leaned farther on the bar, looking to where her sister was laughing at something Sam had just said, a blush staining her cheeks. Sam, for her part, was leaning back against the bar, smirking. Kara waved hand at Alex, and made a flicking motion with her left hand. Alex rolled her eyes, then pulled a leather wallet out of her jacket and slid it down the bar.

 

Kara stopped it with her hand and flipped it open.

 

**Alexandra Danvers, Special Agent, FBI**

 

“That, is what a ‘group badass’ does,” she said, smiling proudly, though she felt her frown drooping for a moment when Lena’s face froze, then smiled a bit more stiffly.

 

“Well,” the green-eyed woman said after a moment. “I suppose you find all types in music. Who would have thought?”

 

Kara smiled, wondering what the other woman’s problem with the FBI was, before picking the badge up and tossing it back to Alex, who tucked it back into her inside pocket. “Alex’s mom, for one. She was more surprised at how long it took us than that it happened, though.”

 

Lena frowned for a second. “Alex’s mom? I thought you were sisters?”

 

Kara shrugged self-consciously. “We are, just not by blood. Eliza and Jeremiah adopted me when I was thirteen.” She looked up and blinked when she felt a hand rest on her own, rubbing a thumb across the back of her hand for a moment, before being withdrawn.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I was four when I was adopted, it’s how I came to the States in the first place.”

 

“Oh, no, I don’t mind! I was really lucky. The Danvers’ are friends of my cousin. When I...when I needed somewhere to go, he asked them, and they took me in. I’ll never be able to thank them enough, they really are like a second family.”

 

Lena smiled lopsidedly at her. “It sounds lovely. Though, I have to wonder how a photojournalist-slash-part time musician winds up singing about ancient Gaelic myths at an exclusive cabaret on a Friday night,” she said, one eyebrow quirking up in a way that Kara found entirely too distracting.

 

“Well-” Kara started, then stopped as the bartender walked up to their group, hand over the receiver on a cordless telephone. To the side, Alex and Sam stopped and looked at him as well.

 

“I apologize, ladies. Ms. Luthor,-” to the side, Alex started slightly and stared at Lena. “There’s a call for you from your assistant.”

 

Lena sighed internally, knowing the cat was out of the bag now. “Thank you, Garrett. I’m sorry, I turned my phone off on the way in. She knows I was taking the evening off-” she said, taking the phone and holding it to her ear. “Jess?”

 

Kara couldn’t help but listen in. Eliza would chide her for abusing her powers, but, she was curious!

 

“Ms. Luthor, thank god! There’s been a break-in at LuthorCorp. I just got here, but the police won’t tell me anything,” a slightly panicked female voice said over the phone.

 

Lena stood up, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Calm down, Jess, I’m on my way. Don’t let them take any of the security tapes until we have copies. I’ll be there shortly.”

 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see what I can do.” Lena hung up and held the phone out to the bartender.

 

“I’m sorry, ladies, but it seems there’s been a break-in at my work. Sam-” the brunette was already standing up, collecting her bag. “-go ahead and stay here. There’s no need for both of our evenings to be ruined.”

 

“Nonsense, Lena. I won’t be able to focus on anything else now, anyway.”

 

Alex chimed in unexpectedly. “Do you mind if I catch a ride? If there’s been a break-in at LuthorCorp, I’ll probably be getting a call any m-” she was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing in her pocket. “-inute.” She pulled it out and swiped. “Danvers. Yes sir. I just heard. I’m on my way. Science division? Shit. Yes sir, I understand. It won’t be a problem.” She hung up and looked at Lena again, who’d paused, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Sorry. As I was saying, mind if I catch a ride? We came in Winn’s van and I don’t want to strand everyone else and their instruments, and a cab will take too long.”

 

Kara watched, eyes narrowed at Alex as she spoke, and watching Lena-Lena  **Luthor** -appraise the agent, before speaking. “Of course, Agent Danvers.”

 

Kara piped up. “Good luck, Alex! Do you think Supergirl will be there?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at her sister, some sort of hidden message passing between them.

 

“Doubt it, Kar. Sounds pretty routine, for now, purely aftermath. You’ll have to catch your next story somewhere else.”

 

The blonde pouted while Lena looked between them, raising an eyebrow. “Wha-”

 

Alex started to talk, turning towards the door. “Kara’s built her reputation as a journalist covering stories about Supergirl and alien interests. People are starting to call her the Lois Lane of National City, though so far she’s avoided Lois’ penchant for being kidnapped.”

 

“I see,” Lena was saying as the three stepped through the oak door out into the alley, leaving Kara alone at the bar with Winn and James.

 

She sighed and sipped her juice, wondering if she could come up with an excuse to show up as Supergirl anyway.

 

“Damnit!” she suddenly exclaimed. When James and Winn looked at her, alarmed, she planted her head on the bar and groaned.

 

“I totally forgot to get her number!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this one. I'll be trying (and perhaps failing) to upload a new chapter every Monday.
> 
> Again, please comment. Ask me questions, raise concerns, point out mistakes, or give me ideas and suggestions!


	3. Vault 3-18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a week and a day late, but here it is. Sorry for the delay-I was super sick last week and didn't trust myself to write while I was delirious.
> 
> I have no beta, so any mistakes are my own.

Lena shook her head, thinking sadly about odds, while she pulled out her phone and called her driver. Agent Danvers had already bounded up the staircase into the alley and was looking around.

 

“Right. It occurs to me I have no idea where you parked.”

 

The line connected. “Ms. Luthor?” Henry’s gruff voice asked.

 

“Henry, I’m afraid there’s been an incident, we’ll need our pickup now. We’ll be headed back to LuthorCorp immediately.”

 

Agent Danvers looked over at her, blinking owlishly. Lena felt the lips on one side of her mouth tick up.

 

“I’ll be right there, ma’am.”

 

She hung up without another word. “We ‘parked’ on the corner, Agent Danvers,” she said, heels clicking as she marched towards the end of the alley.

 

To her side, Sam had her phone open, tapping a message off to her own assistant. Hurried footsteps behind her slowed on her other side. Good, the agent was paying attention. 

 

The three women walked to the end of the alley and out onto the corner in relative silence, only the clicking of Sam’s phone disturbing the evening air before the limousine rolled around the corner to a stop. Henry rolled down the drivers side window, knowing not to get out when she was in a hurry. “Is everything alright, Ms. Luthor? Who’s this?” In addition to being her primary driver, Henry was also a member of her security team.

 

“Quite fine, Henry,” she said, climbing into the back after Sam and gesturing Alex in with them. “This is Agent Danvers, with the Bureau.”

 

Henry looked at them in the rearview mirror for a moment, then nodded and pulled out. He left the divider down.

 

\------

 

The ride was relatively short, the roads mostly empty by this time of night, though the commotion on Cordova St was visible from a dozen blocks away. Police cars lined the side of the road in front of the LuthorCorp tower, many with their lights flashing, and tired looking detectives in street clothes spoke to groups of people outside the tower.

 

Henry pulled the car up to the curb, and a short Hispanic detective homed in on them immediately, jogging over even as Lena and Sam stepped out of opposite sides of the vehicle.

 

“Ms. Luthor, I-Danvers?” The woman's initial brusqueness melted into confusion as an uncomfortable looking Alex slid out of the limo behind Lena.

 

“Hey, Maggie.”

 

“Wh-” The detective blinked while Lena looked between them bemusedly, then the woman straightened up. “Well damn, Danvers. Nice.” She turned her attention back to the CEO.

 

“Sorry, Maggie Sawyer, NCPD Science division.” Lena shook the hand cordially, not sure what to make of the way the woman was appraising her.

 

“A pleasure, I’m sure, detective. Before you start asking, however, I imagine that at the moment you know more about what happened here than I do. What  _ do _ you know at the moment, if I may ask?” Sam had walked around to join them before she had finished the sentence, firing another text off as she came, then tucking her phone into her purse and standing beside Lena.

 

“NCPD was alerted about fourty-five minutes ago of an alarm triggered on the premises. When we arrived, most of the security had been disabled. We found the guards restrained in a storage area on the first basement level. They don’t seem to know anything about what happened, but we have officers speaking with them now. We found a hole cut through the wall somehow from the sewers on the second basement level, and they seem to have cleared out some kind of vault on one of the sublevels, but your assistant hasn’t given us permission to access the security footage or any kind of inventory. I was hoping you’d be willing to help with that.”

 

The four women had been walking towards the building as Detective Sawyer spoke, bypassing police security cordons and entering the lobby. Lena nodded, her brow furrowed. “You have my permission to take copies of our security tapes, but not the originals. I’ll be needing to review them for internal security reasons, of course. Do you know which of our vault’s was accessed?”

 

The detective flipped through her notepad for a moment. “Looks like...3-18.”

 

Lena stopped dead. The other three women took a few more steps before realizing, turning to face her. She felt the blood flood out of her face, and fancied for a moment she must look even more ghostly than normal.

 

“Ms. Luthor?” Agent Danvers stepped towards her. “Is everything alright?” The heiress looked at the detective.

 

“Vault 3-18? You’re certain, detective?”

 

“Uh...yeah. Why?”

 

Lena started walking again, sweeping passed the flustered women, Sam trailing along bemusedly. “I have to see for myself. It’s not that I don’t believe you, detective, but I have to be certain.”

 

“Ms. Luthor! Ms. Luthor!” The detective called, jogging to catch up to the CEO, who’s heels were beating a tattoo across the lobby of the building. She stabbed a button on the elevator bank with one hand, turning around and raising an eyebrow at the Latina woman.

 

“Yes, detective?”

 

“What’s so important in Vault 3-18?”

 

The elevator doors dinged open and Lena stepped inside, swiping a keycard and pushing the button for the third sublevel. “That is need to know, detective, and you don’t unless 3-18 has actually been opened.”

 

“Lena-can I call you Lena?”

 

“I don’t believe we know each other well enough for that yet, Agent Danvers,” Lena responded as the doors slid shut on the four women.

 

“...Right. Ms. Luthor, then. You don’t want to tell us what’s in Vault 3-18, that’s fine-” Maggie started to raise an objection, but Alex held up a finger at her. “-for the moment. Is there anyone else who would know what’s in that vault?”

 

“No. The contents of the vault were transferred there under my personal supervision in unlabelled boxes. Nobody has access to it except for myself, not even my assistant. The building inventory says the vault contains...copy toner, I believe.”

 

“I’m guessing it’s not full of copy toner.”

 

“You guess correctly, Agent Danvers.”

 

The elevator doors dinged open again, revealing a blank white hallway with an abandoned security checkpoint. Lena slipped into the checkpoint and typed at the computer for a moment, then turned back down the corridor. Sam stepped up next to her and whispered in her ear.

 

“Lena, what’s going on?”

 

The Luthor heiress looked over her shoulder at the agent and detective, who seemed to be avoiding each others eyes, before whispering back. “3-18 contains some very sensitive items from the Metropolis branch.”

 

Sam frowned and nodded, stepping back. Lena led them through several plain, white hallways, and they began to pass doors that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a bank vault. After several turns and a number of doors, they entered a hallway full of NCPD officers, with an open vault door. Lena swore and stepped up her pace again. Sam and Agent Danvers were able to keep up thanks to their longer stride, but the detective scowled as she nearly had to jog to keep pace.

 

The CEO brushed past several officers that tried to stop her, who were waved down by the agent and detective, and stepped slowly into the vault. It was a large room, perhaps two dozen feet to a side and well over ten feet tall. It was also completely empty.

 

Lena sagged, rubbing her temples. Sam looked around with a frown, giving her friend a worried glance out of the corner of her eye. The agent and detective looked at each other awkwardly, letting the CEO process for a moment, after which she turned to them with a weary look on her face.

 

“Let’s not play coy, ladies. We all know who my family is. Vault 3-18 is where I stored the blueprints and devices my brother made during his crusade in Metropolis, that I thought could someday be repurposed for something decent, the ones that he never had a chance to use, and weren’t technically evidence, so the government couldn’t confiscate.”

 

There was a poignant silence as the women looked at Lena, each other, and the empty vault, the door of which looked to have been cut completely off and set aside.

 

Alex Danvers flipped out her phone and started to walk back the way they came. “Alex?” detective Sawyer called after her. “Who are you calling?”

 

“Someone just stole an entire freaking vault of tech designed to kill Supers, Mags. Who the hell do you think I’m calling?” she called back acerbically.

 

“...Right, stupid question.” The short woman looked at Lena, who raised a tired eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable grilling. “We should probably follow her.”

 

Lena blinked, then squinted, unsure of what was going on, but a sinking feeling in her gut gave her an idea. She looked at her friend. “Sam, check everything else. Every vault. Make sure this was all they got. If nothing else we’ll know this vault choice wasn’t an accident.”

 

“Alright. And Lena?”

 

The CEO looked over her shoulder, from where she’d already turned away. “Hmm?”

 

“Good luck. It looks like we’re in for a late night afterall.”

 

Lena chuckled and waved, receiving a sardonic wave in reply, and strode down the hallway towards the corner where the detective was waiting.

 

\------

 

The ride back to the lobby was silent, as both women stewed on their own concerns. Agent Danvers had already caught an elevator by the time they got there. They found her outside, pacing in front of the skyscrapers front doors.

 

“Is there a reason we came back up here, Agent Danvers? I’m sure you both have questions. It would be far easier to answer them in my office.” The agent looked up from her phone, clicking it off.

 

“There is. This will all be a lot easier if we only have to do it once.”

 

Lena was about to respond when a noise like a gust of wind interrupted her, and a red and blue blur through the night sky resolved into a beautiful woman in a skirt and cape at the bottom of the stairs. She walked up them with confidence as Lena swallowed nervously.  _ Oh, _ she thought.  _ That’s who she was calling. I was hoping to have this meeting in less...condemning circumstances. _

 

“Awfully late, Agent Danvers. What’s up?” the blonde superhero asked, fists on her hips as she looked around with curiosity.

 

“There’s been a break-in, Supergirl. I wouldn’t normally call you for something like this, but I’m afraid it’s...relevant to you,” the agent responded, then glanced at Lena for a moment. The superhero cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows in confusion.

 

“Relevant to me? How so?”

 

“Supergirl...this is Lena Luthor, the new CEO of LuthorCorp. Ms. Luthor, Supergirl.”

 

Lena held her breath as the superhero looked at her in surprise, bracing herself for the inevitable judgement that never came. Instead, the blonde held out her hand and smiled brightly.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Luthor. I’d heard you were relocating LuthorCorp to National City. I’m sorry we had to meet under such trying circumstances.”

 

Lena took the hand hesitantly, before it was shaken enthusiastically. The superhero seemed to catch onto her nervousness and discomfort, as she stepped closer and whispered, still holding Lena’s hand.

 

“Relax, Ms. Luthor. I’m not my cousin, and you aren’t your brother. I see no reason their little lovers spat should interfere with the lives of more rational folk, hmm?”

 

Then she winked. Lena couldn’t keep herself from laughing, before smiling and finally shaking the hand back firmly. “No reason at all.”

 

The Super stepped back, releasing her hand with a bright smile, and looked at the agent. “So, how is this robbery relevant to me? I’m sure you wouldn’t call me just because it was Ms. Luthor’s company that was stolen from, Alex.”

  
“No, Supergirl, it’s more a matter of  **what** was stolen,” the agent responded, looking at Lena, who winced.  _ Well, that potential friendship just died in record time... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment your thoughts! Things you'd like to see in future chapters, speculation, critique or concerns, good or bad, I welcome it all.


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